


Devoted

by TheBakerStWriter



Series: June's Inksolation Of 2020 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fist Fights, Hospitals, M/M, Mad doctor - Freeform, Sherlock Being a Drama Queen, Sherlock Holmes Saves John Watson, Violence, hinted Johnlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBakerStWriter/pseuds/TheBakerStWriter
Summary: Sherlock proves his loyalty.Part 4 of June's Inksolation of 2020.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: June's Inksolation Of 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772257
Kudos: 19





	Devoted

**Author's Note:**

> (Edited: To let anyone new coming know, this is not beta'ed and it was written quickly, so many spelling mistakes ahead!)

The white ceramic walls mimicked their clomps while reflecting its surroundings. John could see Sherlock’s coat flapping behind him as he dashed through the corridor after the killer. The emotion of worry started to get the better of him, scotland yard was on its way and will likely arrive in another 10 minutes. 

John executed a cry followed by a string of curses as his right leg hit an operating table smeared with deep red liquid, blood, with what looked like a mix of medical equipment and torture devices as he rounded a corner. A horror look overtook him, thinking about what the patients admitted here had to go through.

“John!” Sherlock halted then shouted, “Focus!”

John’s head turned to face Sherlock who was now facing him and halted, an annoyed look plastered on him. As they both turned their heads to continue running, despite a painful expression on John’s face, the killer had gone. The killer had disappeared. The killer had vanished. The killer took this opportunity to run away. There were too many corridors and too many rooms to be sure which way he went.

“John, it is of high importance to catch him,” Sherlock’s baritone spoke loud and clearly, pointing towards the killer's direction, “We check the rooms.”

And with a nod from John, they started attacking each room as they slowly progressed forwards. Their backs were facing the entrance of the hospital, with the emergency door close to the entrance, the killer was at a dead end.

“You know, We could just wait for scotland yard to arrive,” John pointed out as he busted the sixth door. 

“No time,” was Sherlock's reply. Partly not making sense to John’s brains.

They came to a halt when small drops of bright red could be seen on the floor. They looked at each other, nodded, and John took the lead with his gun pointed forwards, knees bent and in full soldier mode. While Sherlock tagged along, a pocketknife in his hands, feeling helpless.

John’s eyes were glue forwards, the corridor was unnaturally clean and white, yet he felt a strange feeling. Of course, he felt eerie and all that, but something new he wicked up. Like when he was in Afghanistan. And it clicked. Sherlock. Of course, Sherlock would feel useless and even guilty, as much as he never shows, John knows it. He had put them both in danger. And he came with a pocketknife. 

“I’m the brawn, you’re the brains.” John voiced the truth. A fact. An obvious fact. And Sherlock hates that, but sometimes he doesn’t see it, and so here is where John steps in. He took a glance behind him and saw Sherlock nodding, with a neutral expression.

The blood trails stopped at a door. There were three possible outcomes. One, the killer escaped through the window which was highly unlikely as all the windows completely sealed. Two, he is in there, but unarmed. And three, he is armed with a deadly weapon.

John looked at Sherlock for confirmation but didn’t get it. Confused, he asked in a whisper, “What? You don’t think he is in there?”

“He is smart John, he must have realized he was bleeding when he injured himself.” Sherlock took a step closer to John, making him incredibly close as he whispered. “Behind me.”

And with a swift motion, John had broken down the opposite door revealing the killer, unarmed.

“Get on your knees,” John’s commanding voice was used. Sherlock lingered behind him closing the pocketknife and analyzing the killer.

“No, Captain Watson,” the killer spoke familiarly, “I’m sure Lieutenant Philips would have disagreed with your choice of words.” A smile formed on the man’s face. Wide and showing teeth. Too wide. Too white. It resembled an unhuman smile that haunted children's nights.

John’s face swam in a pool of emotion as recognition hit. Sherlock looked utterly confused. He didn’t like being confused.

“it’s all over now.” John’s voice held to the ground.

“Is it?” 

The killer had lounged onto John, taking away his gun.

“Military trained expert, John,” Sherlock shouted, and received an “I can see that!” from the soldier. But just as he was about to stab the killer with his pocket knife, another man emerged in nursing clothes and took hold of him. He was much larger and broader, making it impossible to let loose. 

John and the killer were belabouring with fits, while Sherlock still struggled to get away from the bulky nurse. After a few moments, he deduced the nurse recently had appendix surgery and with his elbow threw a blow at his side. The nurse yelled and sherlock gave him a front kick, throwing him outside the room.

A loud thud sound made Sherlock turn around. John was against the cupboard, bleeding from his nose, the killer picked up the gun and pointed it at him. 

A gunshot sound echoed through the hospital. 

“Sherlock!”

Sirens could be heard.

Sherlock stood with the barrel against his chest, both his hands on the killer’s face, his thumbs pressing into his eyes resulting in a screech. 

One moment he was standing, the next he was lying on the ground. John Pressing on his wound. 

“Sherlock, you git! Why did you do that?” John’s words echoed in his ears.

“John Hamish Watson, combine this and the fall, and you shall see the depth of my loyalty. I am devoted to you.” Sherlock’s baritone spoke clearly. “Goodbye, John.”

John said with a smile at the close-eyed detective. The ambulance was outside, and the wound wasn’t dangerous at all. “You’re a drama queen.” My drama queen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank You For Reading.


End file.
